


Just a Dream

by Emperor_Quarter



Category: Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle (2017)
Genre: Drabble, Dreamsharing, Gen, Implied/Refrenced FTM Beth, Second person POV, the wonders of procrastination, weird formatting, you know the drill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 00:57:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14630685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emperor_Quarter/pseuds/Emperor_Quarter
Summary: Hello?It’s cuts through the quietness, the uncomfortable silence that befalls everything. In that moment, everything seems to stir to life.





	Just a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Me trying to write other story: ...PROCRASTINATING IS FUN!
> 
> Wellllll... it’s about that time again.
> 
>  
> 
> literally I can only write jumanji when it’s past 10 pm and I’m drowsy af on melatonin 

It’s extraordinarily quiet.

 

It shouldn’t be.

 

Maybe that’s not the first thing supposed to be on the mind. Probably that the jungle you were trapped in a year ago is now haunting your dreams, and that in some degree you’ve managed to merge minds with your friends that _also_ were trapped in said jungle.

 

It’s quiet.

 

There is no beating of drums, no motorcycles roaring, no Van Pelt attacking. Not even Nigel is here (which is disappointing, he was pretty cool) but mostly, no one else is here.

 

Weaving through thicket, it’s only multiple prayers that no creature runs to attack. The forest is dense, but sunlight peeks through enough to tell if something is coming.

 

Hopefully no hippos this time (you have no idea what you’ll do if there are.)

 

It’s still quiet. So much for even the birds wouldn’t chirp, even the breeze wouldn’t blow, but the dreamworld is too foggy and mind-boggling for anything that specific. Though, somehow, identifying which way you’re going is not hard by somehow knowing which way the spiders are pointing their webs and the position of the sun, (the former should be Anthony’s job, but yet it comes so easily.)

 

There seems to be a mist-like air around the jungle, not quite surprising. If shields the place, almost, that if not for the sunlight it would be impossible to see five feet in front of you.

 

Not even footsteps are heard and the brush is pulled back. The stream, which should be thundering with deadly creatures, is preaceful. It’s a simple brook, one that does not have any murkiness. It looks like paradise beach water, and it’s a wonder if it could actually be sipped from. There would probably be no feelings though. A pale hand dips in it, and jerks back. Of course, a brain is so clever it can trick a dreamer into thinking something is real. You wonder if a brain is actually good or just makes mischief. 

 

The hand dips in again, pulling the trickling water up to lips. There’s a slight taste, foreign and phantom, a memory of it but not quite there.

 

No creatures are present. Maybe this time there will be no thrill, no rush. Maybe it will stay peaceful.

 

But peacefulness is lonely. Just too lonely.

 

It’s too quiet.

 

Wish after wish that the others are here, a voice is finally heard. Somewhere not too far off, bouncing between trees and through bush, it’s there.

 

_Hello?_

 

It cuts through the quietness, the uncomfortable silence that befalls everything. In that moment, everything seems to stir to life.

 

The birds begin chirping, rustling in the bushes is seen, and the river is loud.

 

The greenery rushes past as thumps of footsteps hit the ground, trying to identify the location of the sound just spoken. You aren’t _him_ in this dream, but everything you wanted to be. It’s relaxing. Not who you are in the real world, but everything good and longing for placed together in one illusionary body.

 

_Hello?_

 

It takes one more turn and the voice is identified. Spencer smiles faintly.

 

 _The others are over there. Looks like we’re all here again?_ It sounds, almost sad.

 

Have they not been dreaming of this? Of this escape from the chains of the physical world? Do they not know how much of a blessing this is?

 

Most people like you don’t get this luxury. This amazing lucid dream that _feels so real_ but yet not at the same time. Just a flex of fingers and the feeling is _almost_ there. You could live here forever, it would be a dream come true, literally.

 

A white polo is unbuttoned, it’s burning up here, of course because it’s a _rainforest._ Sweat is coming down, and suddenly this dream isn’t wonderful for a brief moment.

 

He suddenly shrieks and covers his eyes, and you _laugh._ This is a dream. A wonderful, magical dream where we are who we want to be. His hands drop down and apologies are rising in his throat, but the moment is cut short when the others come.

 

They make no acknowledgement of anything, a silent glance before nodding and looking away. They expected it. Though, something seems off.

 

Suddenly, it dawns that Anthony is missing his top two feet again, and you realize maybe they don’t quite have the hang of this yet. Laughs echo across the landscape, and everyone is mocking him for his height.

 

Martha is still wearing revealing clothes (they definitely have no idea) again, and the laughter falls quiet as they stare.

 

You fumble off on explaining how these ( _wonderful amazing miracles)_ dreams work, and they nod, everything changing back to normal. Anthony is taller, Martha’s clothes is back, and Spencer... seems to sport a few pounds in muscle. Everyone begins to laugh again, and he’s bashfully smiling.

 

The moment is interrupted rudely when a motorcycle is heard in the distance.

 

You smiled faintly, the action barely able to be felt on your face.

 

Everyone starts running, the roaring engines getting louder and louder and the scenery whooshes by faster and faster. The trees are barely visible, only a speck of green and suddenly you’re out in the open.

 

Nigel grins, complete opposite of what he was before. _Get in._ You slam the door close and he turns on the engine, making it splitter to life as the motorcycles get closer. But the truck speeds up, and they are lost in the dust. Everyone smiles, and suddenly a cliff overlooking the sunset (dream logic, oh the aweness) is where the truck stops.

 

You sit there, with Anthony and Spencer and Martha and Nigel, no drums, not motorcycle, no terrifying thrill nor uncomfortable silence. It feels so real.

 

You lay back, soaking it all up, every bit for as long as possible.

 

After all, a dream only lasts a few seconds.

 

Best enjoy it while you can.

**Author's Note:**

> So, that’s me writing in 2nd POV. I kinda like it, because it gives me a challenge. It’s fun, idk.


End file.
